


Scraping By

by Thleeny



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Demon Summoning, Gen, M/M, Sleepovers, relationship if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 17:30:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19480675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thleeny/pseuds/Thleeny
Summary: It's easy to look up how to summon a demon. Easier still to actually try it. But very, very awkward when you summon the one demon who just wanted a nice night in for once.





	Scraping By

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt "horror movie trope where dumb teens summon a demon for funsies except it actually works and it’s just, crowley in pajamas all inconvenienced or something and then, you know, shenanigans ensue or whatever" by the lovely movieheaux on tumblr!

This was it.

This was _it._

Ten weeks of hard research. Ten weeks of getting rides to libraries and hacking into university accounts just to get to the really good old textbooks. Ten weeks of notes and researching and ink stains on her fingers and her wrists aching from the strain of typing, _ten weeks_ of doing it all on her own–

It’d pay off tonight.

It had to. Nothing else in this little coven had, Khloe considered. It wasn’t even a proper coven, just a a few girls (and Gina’s cousin) that she’d known who liked this kind of thing. Except they didn’t really like the proper work, just the fun bits. Dressing in black lace and corsets and pretending to make people’s wombs barren when they annoyed them, and that was fine, but Khloe had bigger dreams than that. She didn’t want to just play at it. She wanted to do it for _real_.

What’s more real than summoning a demon?

She’d drawn the chalk outline and lit the candles and said the words. She’d made them all dress in black with silver jewelry, not so much because it was necessary but because it was the spirit of it all. And though they’d all joked at first, scoffing and giggling in the dark, the instant that chalk had begun to glow they’d paid attention. Oh, _yes_. Her grin gleamed in the dark, and she stood up straighter, aware of all the eyes in the room on her. Oh, _yes_ , indeed, this was exactly what she’d had in mind. A growing rush of wind and the pressure in the room dropping, her teeth aching, and the other girls were fussing, yelling at her to knock it off, that this wasn’t funny, and the feeling her brain might just melt out of her ears, and then–

_There._

A figure, lean and long, was suddenly within the circle. It wasn’t an appearance: rather, her mind struggled not to buy in to the fact he was _always_ there, that this was normal, that she oughtn’t pay it mind– _no_ , she thought, and gritted her teeth, ignoring the way her eyes seemed to want to drift away, her thoughts focusing in on the mundane. No matter what stupid protection he had, she’d conquer it. This was _her_ demon, and by god, he’d bend his body to her will, not the other way round.

He did not, she considered, look much like a demon ought to. Not demonic, for starters. No extra bits, no hideous visage or claws or sharp teeth. Not really animalistic, either– oh, the eyes were weird, sure, and she appreciated that, but it wasn’t really what was promised in the book, was it? But he was humanoid, which was fine too, except not– you know– particularly _seductive_. That was the other option. You either got something hideous or something that was overwhelmingly tempting, there wasn’t an inbetween– and some ginger nut with long legs and a squinty expression wasn’t exactly _tempting_. She didn’t precisely want to go in the circle, you know? Now, if, say, Channing Tatum-as-a-demon had appeared, that might be another thing, but. Well. There’s a lid for every pot. Maybe it was appearing that way because of one of the other girls (or, possibly, Gina’s cousin, who was currently making high-pitched noises suggestive of a tea kettle).

Still. One had to do these things right, even if there was a somewhat awkward air in the basement now. Nobody had expected it to really work, and now that it had (and further, had but then gone all tame, because the demon wasn’t snarling or spitting, just sort of standing there, blinking at them all), it was something of a bizarre thrill and let-down all at once to see that _this was it_.

“Camio,” she began, trying to make her voice low and deep because it’s about _effort_ , Gina, it’s about the _spirit_ of it all, “listen well, for I command thee: I have summoned thee, and I–”

“Right. Excuse me.”

“–I invoke my right as your master–”

“Right, that’s fine, it’s just–”

“–to obey mine bidding and do as I _what_! What the hell is it, do you have something to say? Because I’m in the middle of something right now, and–”

“Yes!” the demon said, looking far too relieved. “Yes, right, this is all well and good, really good job, people– I’d fix the circle, though, this isn’t actually going to do you much good,” and to her astonishment, he stepped right out of it with a little hop. “But you’ve got the wrong person, actually.”

There was silence.

It went on for an uncomfortably long time.

“What,” she finally managed.

“Wrong demon! Not Camio. Definitely not. _Crowley_ , and I see where the mix-up is, you know, _Crow_ ley, bird-demon– but no, you’re looking for the guy in charge of some of the legions of hell, right? Nasty guy. I mean, summon him if you want, but I wouldn’t, you know? He gets tetchy when somebody cooks his worms wrong. _Wise_ doesn’t mean _patient_ , and believe me, sometimes you get to the top just because you’ve killed everyone else, and that’s definitely the case for him. I mean, really, summon him if you want, but I wouldn’t.”

The demon Crowley said it so _earnestly_. Like they were a bunch of schoolkids in a foreign city who’d gotten turned around and were being guided along by some shop owner. He wasn’t even bothering to look at them; he’d pulled an iPhone (an _iPhone_ , for Satan’s sake, a bloody XS, she didn’t even have it yet and it’s not as if she wanted it, really, but _still_ , she ought to have a better phone than a bloody demon, talk about temptation) and was currently dialing quickly.

“No, no, don’t bother,” he said, glancing up. Gina had begun to vaguely lift her Staff of Power, intent upon perhaps completing the Banishing Ritual (as if she even remembered it). This, despite the fact the demon wasn’t in the circle, but rather pacing around her mum’s basement, bare feet hitting the floor with an unnervingly normal _pap-pap_. “It’ll just send me back to Hell if we’re lucky, _lots_ of paperwork– I’ll just get a– _angel_!”

It’s very awkward, as people know, to listen in to someone else’s phone conversation. There’s nothing to do but eavesdrop even if you don’t want to, and you can’t help but try and piece together what they’re talking about. But this conversation was bound to be interesting regardless, and so six sets of ears pricked up, they all of them leaning in as one person.

The demon Crowley did not notice. He was busy futzing around with her mum’s exercise bike, idly nudging the pedals as he spoke. “Yes, it’s me– well, I’m about to tell you, aren’t I? I got summoned. Yes. _Yes_. No, a bunch of kids–”

“Hey!”

“–at a sleepover– well, I don’t know, I guess they– oye! How did you lot even figure out how to do it?” he said, glancing up. A beat, and he turned the phone towards her ( _angel_ , the contact read, with a picture of a sushi roll, because why not), speakerphone firmly on, all the better for his companion to hear.

“Er,” she said. Everyone stared at her, and yes, all right, she was the coven leader, but still. Someone else could take charge for once. Clearly not, though, and she straightened up. “I, uh, I researched it. Compared a lot of old religious texts and saw what I had in common, and then I looked up Latin commands and saw what _they_ had in common–”

“ _Oh, well done_ ,” the voice on the other end praised. There was a faint edge to it, like a schoolteacher irritated that a pupil who never paid attention inexplicably still aced a test. “ _Well done indeed, but I think you ought to leave these things be from now on, hm? Not exactly healthy. Don’t know who you might summon next. Why, it might even be an angel! Wouldn’t that be a shock? Haha._ ”

“Haha,” the demon Crowley echoed, grimacing. “Right, are you–”

“ _Actually,_ ” Sushi-Roll-Angel continued, his tone ever more pointed, and Crowley groaned, ” _I think all of you ought to just nip this idea in the bud while you’ve still got heads with which to do it, hm?_ “

There was a meaningful sort of pause, and Crowley let out a soft _ugh_. Turned speakerphone off, yanking the phone back towards himself.

"Yes, all right– yeah, I got it, thank you, you aren’t subtle, now are you picking me up or not? _No_ , not in the Bentley, I don’t want you in her like that, but– at least call me a taxi, angel, or pick me up yourself– yes, _yes_ , now ple– _thank you_.”

He slammed the end call button, exhaled an irritated sigh, and glanced up at the little gang. There was no more of the distracted, amiable demon they’d summoned. This one was– and Khloe thought of her mum upstairs, the way she got when she saw a dog shitting on her lawn, the curl of her mouth and the look that promised death in her gaze– _tetchy_.

"Right,” he said again, his tone far more menacing, and took a step forward. “Let’s just finish this before it starts, shall we?”

**

“You didn’t hurt them, did you?”

Strictly speaking, it wasn’t necessary for Aziraphale to be here. He could have called a cab and directed it towards where he could sense Crowley. But it’s comforting, when you’ve been summoned out of bed at eleven in the evening, to have someone there waiting for you in the backseat.

“No,” Crowley said, and gestured, conjuring a pair of sunglasses. He seemed a great deal more relaxed once they were on, slumping back into his seat. “Course not. I just … mucked around with their memories a little. Let them think that it hadn’t worked, that’s all, and that there were better ways to spend a Friday night. Going on the internet, for example.” Leaving rude comments on Youtube videos, in Crowley’s opinion, was a far more useful Satanic activity than summoning some demon that’d just eat them as soon as look at them.

“Ah. So they’re still …?”

“Little Satanists in the making? Oh, yes. I wasn’t going to change _that_. It’d be unethical,” he added with a sticky-sweet smile. “ _Wrong_ , really, changing their personalities around that severely.”

Aziraphale huffed.

“I wasn’t suggesting that. I merely thought that you might, say, guide them towards a healthier hobby–”

“Like what, exactly?”

“Gardening? Exercise? One of those girls looked sickly in that photo you sent …”

“They all had on makeup, angel, they wanted to look– you know– pale and sad.”

“ _Why_?”

“Why do humans do anything? Can we not talk about this, I want to go home,” he added, and slumped down further, long legs sprawling out impossibly over the backseat.

“Ah. I thought we could go out,” Aziraphale said, and in fact had suggested to the driver that he ought to take them to L’atelier. “Shake off all the chalk dust, so to speak.”

It was eleven at night, which was far too late for dinner. Almost too late for a drink, really, because while he liked staying up and drinking with Aziraphale, he preferred to do it at home after a certain hour. But …

“Yeah, all right,” Crowley said, and straightened up. Aziraphale _beamed_ , utterly pleased, something he pretended not to notice. “Right. You’re paying, though.”


End file.
